Paul J.J. Sinclair (1949-2023): a tribute

My first acquaintance with Paul goes back to an early South African Archaeological Society meeting in 1975, when Professor Revil Mason at Wits provided informal guidance to our incipient archaeological work.  Mozambique had recently became independent and a few of us (namely Ricardo T. Duarte, who soon founded the Antiquities Services, and Teresa Cruz e Silva, who joined the emerging Center for African Studies) were passionately setting up the first Archaeological Unit under the National Research Institute. During our Cape Town meeting Paul expressed his wish to come to us, but at the time we could not offer him a job. He therefore went to Rhodesia to take up a curatorial position at Great Zimbabwe, and soon thereafter made me aware that he did not have much time before he would be forced into compulsory military service in Ian Smith’s army.  

A timely blessing: in haste I managed to have an employment contract approved and I wrote to Paul accordingly, asking him to bear with us for a bit longer until the whole (complicated) paperwork could be formalised … to be made aware –in a matter of days– through an urgent telephone call from the Mozambican Border Police, that "there was a man at the Naamacha-Swaziland border driving a shabby Rhodesian-registered Land Rover, claiming that he had been offered a job at Eduardo Mondlane University". I asked the officer to please wait until later in the day (they were threatening to arrest the undocumented intruder!) before I would be able to rush to the border authorities with an official document testifying in his favour… Fast forward: you would not be surprised, knowing Paul, that no matter repeated appeals, he decided to keep unaltered his unique Land Rover with arch-enemy’s number plates for many, many years, in fact throughout the war with Rhodesia and South Africa… And so it was that soon after taking up residence, being particularly social and joyful as only Paul could be, he quickly adapted to a new language, society and the recurrent pains of living in times of atrocious food shortage, regional bloodshed and –soon after– the horrible mozambican civil war leading up to a million casualties. But I do not recall hearing a word of complaint: Paul had a remarkable sense of belonging and identity, moral courage and generosity, qualities hard to find. His stubborn resilience, I discovered, was a trait inherited from his Scottish and Polish ancestry.

While excavating the Manyikeni Zimbabwe, Paul and I worked under the threat of nearby landmines, with a Rhodesian helicopter eventually surveying us to confirm we were not a military target. Our success was driven by sheer persistence and luck, but it was Paul's unwavering courage and loyalty that truly saw us through. It was in Maputo, in the late 70’s  that he met the love of his life, Amelie (working as an agronomist in northern Mozambique, before moving back to Maputo where they married in April 1979) and where Leszek, their first child, was born. The rest is history, as many of you followed his journey through Uppsala and beyond, fondly remembering his joyful spirit, selflessness, and humor. More than anyone I have known, Paul was exceptionally gifted at securing vital funding, enabling numerous institutions and individuals to advance archaeological excellence in the developing world.

I owe Paul an eternal debt of gratitude for weaving me into the fabric of his Swedish family, just as I had once done for him. He was my sanctuary during my darkest hour when I made the painful choice to leave Mozambique. By inviting me to Uppsala as a guest researcher, he selflessly shared his world of colleagues and friends with me. It was Paul who guided me to Ray Inskeep at Oxford—connecting a lineage of mentorship that stretched back to their days in Cape Town. Alongside Paul, Ray, and many of you here, I found a rare fellowship built on empathy and acceptance. In times of trouble, Paul and I leaned on the Portuguese proverb: ‘Neither good nor evil can last forever.’ Driven by the belief that history is the lifeblood of a nation, we fought to establish archaeology as a respected academic discipline in the face of political pressure. Paul's standing as a scientist was instrumental in my staunch defense to preserve the Department of Archaeology and Anthropology, where he served as Principal Researcher from 1977 to 1980. He remains an irreplaceable figure of dedication and wisdom."

Photo: Paul in his Scottish outfit, seated and cuddled up by Amelie's arm, at Anki de Morais' painting exhibition ('The Colours of my Heart') in the Old City, Stockholm, 27 November 2021.

P.S.: A comprehensive obituary by Anneli Ekblom is also available at https://doi.org/10.1080/0067270X.2024.2325316